A/N:Sorry this took so long! For everybody who complains about long paragraphs. Sometimes long paragraphs are necessary for the reader to figure out where they are in the story and what's going on because only half of the story is actually dialogue. In this case, the long paragraphs are to show you where the characters are before the show and are vehicles for moving the story forward. Sorry, but you will have to deal with them throughout but I swear they only add to the story so it is worth it to read them. End of rant about why paragraphs are needed. Do I own it? I'm writing fan-fiction! F.Y.I. Reviews do influence this story because they give the author something to think about when trying to write!
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Nate was once again on the hunt for a client's painting. This time he wasn't alone. This time he was stuck with one of the greatest retrieval specialists of his generation.
"Hey," Spencer decided to break the silence first, "I heard about your wife and the baby. Congratulations, man!"
"Thanks," Nate huffed at the retrieval specialist's attempt for normalcy, "You'll be wise to forget you know anything about them when talking to your friends."
"As always," Spencer nodded at the threat, "When's it due?"
"It's a boy and he was born in September a year and a half ago." Nate commented as he tried his hardest to remain stoic at the pure knowledge that he was a father.
"Nice," Spencer complimented the older man as he immediately snapped back to work, "The guy on the left is going to be difficult. You think you can handle it?"
"This is an insurance investigation, Spencer," Nate reminded the trained gun with a roll of his eyes, "You're not supposed to bring attention to it."
"I was hired to retrieve the painting," Spencer reminded the investigator with a cool tongue, "My job doesn't include babysitting your sorry ass, Ford."
"You do your job and I'll do mine," Nate agreed as he tried his hardest not to get friendly with the retrieval specialist.
"What are you going to tell your boss?" Spencer demanded after a comfortable silence.
"Same as usual," Nate spouted off on autopilot, "The client insisted we use an expert at retrieval and went ahead and hired the best."
"As long as we get the painting," Spencer growled stubbornly, "I'm thinking about growing out my hair. What do you think?"
"You won't look like a girl," Nate answered on impulse because try as he might he couldn't help but sort of like the thief he was currently working with.
"It was just a thought," Spencer grumbled at the comment as he scouted out the land a little bit more, "There are three guards at the front door. Everybody's in position."
"And that's our cue to leave," Nate agreed as he stood from his spot and began the trek to the mark's pool house.
The two merely did their work in silence as always. Nate distracted the thief in charge while Spencer did the rest. The thief was charged with the crime and his goons were on their way to the hospital with several aches and pains. They may have also had a few breaks. Nate didn't really care as the painting he was after appeared right in front of him with Eliot Spencer firmly attached.
"You're not going to give me the painting, are you?" Nate huffed when the specialist kindly walked past him instead of handing over the valuable object.
"I'll keep hold of it until I get my money," Spencer responded softly.
"Of course you will," Nate nodded firmly as he opened the driver's side door.
"So," Spencer posed when they were on their way back to the specified meeting point, "Have you found Guernica yet?"
"Still looking," Nate responded gloomily at the little reminder and the cold fact that everybody knew about it.
"Sorry," Spencer apologized as a means of being civil, "It's just… Guernica and you haven't found the person responsible! That thief is going to be a legend."
"She escaped by jumping off of a roof," Nate supplied the tiniest bit of information possible so the retrieval specialist would know exactly how close a game it was, "I'll find her again."
"You know who stole the painting," Spencer raised a brow at the insurance man's statement, "Interesting."
"I'm on her trail," Nate smiled at the other man's slight scowl at the news, "and she knows it."
"Looks like you finally found someone else up your alley," Spencer replied as he opened the door the moment the car stopped at their destination.
Yeah, Nate thought glumly as he put the car in park and cut off the engine as a disgruntled exclamation point. He may have slammed the door a bit louder than usual too. The way Spencer arched his right eyebrow seemed to confirm that theory and the cheeky grin wasn't exactly happening.
"Remember that I could have just as easily left you in that jail cell I found you in," Nate explained to the hitter quietly. He smiled at the way that one statement wiped the smirk right off the younger man's face. There was something liberating about being able to earn fear and respect from criminals with brains who aren't so easy to catch. It made the insurance man feel like he had earned something very few investigators get.
"Ahh, Mr. Ford, you did it," Paul smiled at the painting once again returned within his grasp. "Oh this is a glorious day!"
"Well, I had a little help," Nate smiled back in his usual business tone. Paul Winston happened to be one of those oober-rich men who owned a house in every tourist country around the world. This time it was his house in Uruguay that lost its valuable piece. Needless to say he was one of I.Y.S.'s favorite customers. He also happened to be one of Nate's least favorite people. Winston liked to respect his marriage vows like children liked to respect the word no. This week's girlfriend was a redhead with no brains, Paul's favorite type.
"Ah, Mr. Ford, so modest," Paul waved off the reply as he quickly took his painting from the retrieval specialist as if the guy would steal it right under his nose. "Here is your check, Mr. Spencer. It's filled out exactly as you requested."
"Thanks," Spencer waved the check in a salute before he quickly checked over his money just to make certain everything was in order.
"I'll be sure to donate that painting to the next I.Y.S. event as promised, Mr. Ford," Paul smiled kindly towards the insurance man completely ignoring the known criminal.
"You better," Nate grinned back viciously. "Or Ian will send me after you."
"ooh, we don't want that," Paul Winston laughed out right at the joke. He started leaving with a kind wave towards the man who rescued his painting, "Until we meet again, Mr. Ford."
"Ba-bye," Nate laughed along with him. His forced smile dropped the moment he was gloriously able to stop faking hospitality.
"I see you find him just as interesting as I do," Spencer remarked with a half-smile of possible amusement.
"Probably less," Nate agreed with a shrug, "You don't have to deal with him on an annual basis. That's if I'm lucky. Usually I see him every six months!"
"That does sound like it sucks," Spencer shrugged at the idea with a slight shiver. "His idea of chivalry is quite…"
"Distasteful," Nate suggested to save character in the current situation.
"Distasteful," Eliot nodded at the word in relief, "I like it. Until the next job, Nate. Hopefully you won't be chasing me again."
"You know, Eliot," Nate replied at their usual farewell, "If you need anything, you have my number! You could be so much more if you actually worked for…"
"Nate," Eliot Spencer hissed at the insurance man in mild agitation, "You and I are not friends!"
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Boston nine and a half years later:
"Eliot, I'm going to need to borrow your car for the con," Nate explained to the hitter with a worried look on his face.
"Sure," Eliot nodded at the mastermind's words, "No problem, man. I'll give Hardison the pink slip to forge later this afternoon."
"Thanks," Nate smiled at the hitter's words, "I wouldn't have asked but…"
"No problem," Eliot interrupted with a smile, "What are friends for?"
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Present:
"I was only trying to help," Nate stammered at the hitter's words with a roll of his eyes, "You're completely wasted working with the criminals you do."
"Yeah," Spencer hissed at the insurance man in anger, "You and everybody else I have to work with! I work my job like everybody else, end of story! Don't try to tell me there's any difference between me and you, Ford! This is what I do! Get over it!"
"Nice seeing you again," Ford growled at the retrieval specialist in disdain.
"Whatever," Spencer nodded as he vanished off into the night.
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"Status report!" Ian called out the moment Nate walked through the door to their nine a.m. meeting the very next morning.
"Paintings back and I'm just itching for more," Nate replied with only a slightly cheeky smile. He was actually in a decent mood after waking up to Maggie and Sam again.
"Good," Ian replied with a file slapping loudly onto the conference table, "I have just the cure for your jet-lag blues."
"What's been stolen this time?" Sterling demanded in a very bored tone.
"A Degas," Ian reported in disdain, "Can you believe it? This is the third time anyone has ever lifted an impressionist painting from us in two years!"
"Impressionist?" Nate demanded in confusion, "What was our last set of impressionists?"
"Your ghost," Sterling rolled his eyes at his friend's question, "duh!"
"This is just outrageous!" Ian shouted at the top of his lungs, "Nate, Jim, I'm going to need you both to work on this case! We need to find that thief and that painting! Not necessarily in that order!"
"We will, Ian," Sterling nodded at his employer's demand, "Right, Nate?"
"Of course," Nate smirked at this newest set of information. He greedily grabbed the folder and started reading in preparation, "We already know who our culprit is."
"We do?" Ian demanded in confusion.
"Who?" Sterling questioned as he stared at his friend in confusion.
"Sophie Devereaux," Nate replied as he pulled out the ghost's file that was conveniently in his briefcase and plopped it directly beside the new one in his grasp, "She apparently has a preference for the Impressionists!"
"The last two paintings stolen were Impressionist paintings," Sterling smiled at his colleagues' wonderful statement, "Oh that is brilliant!"
"Well," Ian huffed at the two in bewilderment, "What are you waiting for? Bring me back my paintings! Go!"
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"I can't stand this!" Jim commented in disgust of the little stake out they were currently enjoying.
"I'm not enjoying this horrid Chinese any more than you are," Nate scoffed at his friend's distaste. "It hasn't even been an hour yet so quit complaining!"
"I don't see how waiting around in a car outside some hotel in Melbourne, Australia!" Jim practically shouted into the tiny car. "What are we supposed to gain here?"
"Proof," Nate responded with a quick mix of his fried rice without sympathy. "One of my sources said this is rumored to be one of her hideouts so I figured we'd use this opportunity to figure it out."
"Seriously?" Jim stared at him in disbelief, "When were you going to tell me this?"
"I just did," Nate shrugged his shoulders and took a careful bite of his food.
"It's too bloody cold for this!" Jim huffed in disgust before he viciously speared his Sesame chicken and took an angry bite.
"It's May," Nate rolled his eyes at his friend's blubbering, "It's not even winter yet."
"I just flew back from Puerto Rico," Jim complained immediately, "This is cold!"
"You're from Britain," Nate glared at his friend's comments, "Suck it up!"
"I hope your little ghost appears soon," Jim grumbled into his food in misery. "I'm going to shoot her for putting us through this."
"I forgot how much of a baby you are on stake outs," Nate placed two fingers on the bridge of his nose so he could stop the migraine in its tracks. That's when he noticed his wallet on the floor. "Why is my…?"
"Nate, she's here," Jim sputtered excitedly as he pointed to a figure in a trench-coat not too far away. "That's her, isn't it?"
"There's only one way to find out," Nate replied as he quickly tucked his wallet into his pocket and hopped out of the car.
Sure enough, the moment Nate started crossing the street, the figure turned towards him in shock. Nate started heading towards the figure and the figure bolted.
"Why do they always run?" Jim sighed as he dropped his food and raced out of the car to join his partner. Running wasn't exactly the brightest idea but it had the advantage of being difficult to lose the person you're tracking. So, Jim did everything in his power to stay on the exact opposite side of the street while he rushed after the target. Nate managed to get the perp to cross the street and directly into the other man's arms. Jim Sterling was a little too happy when he slammed the guy into the wall.
"Start talking," Jim ordered the moment he ripped the trench coat off the figure.
"Look," the man with extremely girly hair raised his hands up in fear. "She told me to wear this hat and coat, that's all I know."
"What did she look like?" Nate sighed in annoyance.
"Hot!" the guy smirked at the memory. Nate and Jim just exchanged eye rolls and frustration.
"We're going to need more detail," Jim prodded with a quick twist of the guy's collar just for fun.
"Well," the guy swallowed nervously, "She had your accent and big brown eyes. Doe eyes, I called them. She had the figure of a nine and the lips of a ten. You know what I'm saying?"
"Leave it to Sophie to run into an American tourist and charm the pants off of him in Australia," Nate breathed out in disappointment.
"No, man," the guy laughed at the insurance man in relief. "Her name was Natasha, Natasha Samuels. She ain't your vixen."
"No, she's the siren," Jim replied as he released the guy in disinterest.
"Where'd she say she was going?" Nate demanded as he slammed the guy into the wall again before he could make his escape.
"Some Museum, I think," the guy shrugged. "It sounded British!"
"You mean the British Museum," Jim questioned completely baffled by the idiot before him.
"That would be the one, yeah," the guy grinned at the name. "I told ya it sounded British."
"Alright," Nate released the guy disgruntled. The pair watched him race across the street before he quickly turned a corner and disappeared from view. He looked like he was in a hurry and the two insurance men left were now stuck with nothing because of it. Then they saw the very car they were renting leaving them behind. Their thief stole their car. Nate turned an apologetic look upon his friend.
"She better not eat my chicken," Jim glared at his friend completely unhappy with their current situation.
They found the car at the airport as expected. She didn't eat Jim's chicken but Nate was missing his pork fried rice and egg roll. Clearly she had a favorite.
"At least she didn't eat my General Tso," Nate shrugged in relief as he quickly popped a few morsels in his mouth.
"Do you honestly think she's going to the British Museum now?" Jim demanded of his friend with frenzied scoops of the chicken into his mouth. They were men and they were hungry. Who cared if the meat had been out all night? The weather was pretty cold.
"Of course," Nate sighed unhappily, "What's the fun in flirting with danger if you don't actually flirt with danger?"
"Point taken," Jim nodded at the reply, "Let's get our bags and head out."
"I hope she didn't take any of my underwear," Nate prayed to God with hope.
She didn't take any of his underwear. She ended up taking his favorite powder blue shirt and Jim's underwear. All the rest were well stained in some embarrassing area or another. Jim even had a pair of pants that were decent until they both realized she detached the zipper. They bought clothes and then bought tickets to Britain. Their boss was furious. Maggie couldn't stop laughing.
"It's not that funny, Maggie," Nate cringed at his wife's laughs while Jim did his best to pretend he was not listening to the conversation. He was fooling nobody.
"It is pretty funny," Maggie chuckled into the phone viciously.
"She stole my underwear," Jim growled into the phone before Nate glared him back a few feet.
"I like this thief," Maggie calmed down a bit into the phone. "She's got a sense of humor. It sounds like she's even giving you a good run for your money."
"Yeah and she's keeping me away from my family," Nate agreed darkly. "I'm going to catch her, Maggie."
"After the way she embarrassed you," Maggie giggled into the phone, "I'm not surprised."
"How's Sam?" Nate allowed himself a quiet smile of amusement at his wife's wonderful laugh.
"He's busy asking when his father is coming home with presents," Maggie answered with an audible smile to her voice.
"Has he said Daddy yet?" Nate questioned hopefully.
"Nope," Maggie sighed at the question. She had been asked that question since Nate started his job three weeks ago. "He's still saying "presents, Mama, presents." No, Daddy yet."
"He's probably waiting until I get home," Nate declared in relief.
"Then hurry up and catch your thief," Maggie ordered teasingly sharp. "Your son wants some presents and I wouldn't mind some company. Even if said company has cold feet."
"Your feet aren't much better," Nate growled out with his cheeks turning a deep purple. Jim wasn't even pretending to not listen any more. He saw his friend turn purple and was gone. His laughter was so loud Sam could even hear him.
"Presents!" Sam's tiny voice was heard cheering into the phone.
"Your son misses you," Maggie laughed at that.
"I can hear that," Nate beamed at his son's verbal moment. "I'll be home soon."
"You better," Maggie ordered sternly, "Or I might just have to consider finding Sam and I another insurance investigator to fool around with."
"I despise you," Nate breathed into the phone with that little ache for home dulling just enough.
"I love you too," Maggie answered back simply.
"Bye, presents!" Sam shouted into the receiver.
"bye, Sammy," Nate called back with a happy chuckle. "See you later, Maggie. I love you."
"Bye," Maggie chuckled as the phone went dead.
"Well?" Jim asked when his friend finally hung up the phone. "You ready to go?"
"Let's get this over with," Nate agreed with a smile as they headed towards the museum without a moment of hesitation. It was time to finish the job to go home!
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Jim was politely strolling through the Degas' when the alarm went off. He and Nate had informed the Museum that they were making their checks on a hunch earlier that day so the museum had limited viewings for the day. They were hoping the limited viewings would discourage their thief enough to buy them some time to figure out which piece would be targeted. Clearly, she had other plans.
"Great," Jim rolled his eyes at the alarm as he started sprinting towards the sector going off. He noticed a flash of brown hair disappear into the corner twenty feet away from him. He dashed towards that corner as fast as his feet could carry him. He was going to catch her.
The insurance man withdrew his gun and started following the wisps of hair, increasing speed each step of the way. Sure enough the wisps of hair became hair and a leg bobbing into a corner. Then the bobbing leg became the entire silhouette of a body. Jim smiled the moment the silhouette became the back of a person's body. He had right where he wanted her.
"Freeze!" Jim shouted with his gun poised for the kill. The figure stopped and so did he. They both knew what would happen next. It was a familiar ritual for the both of them and there was no way out of this situation for her. No safe way anyway. She was Nate's ghost. There was no doubt about that.
"Show me the painting," Jim ordered at the frozen ghost in interest. "Move slowly and don't you dare drop it."
The brunette ghost with brown eyes turned around with a tilt of her head in interest as she stared at the man with the gun. Her ruby lips slowly grew into a smile as recognition flitted into her eyes. She knew exactly what was going to happen now.
"You?" Jim questioned as he realized exactly where he had seen the vicious fiend before, "I know you!"
"Small world," the ghost replied with a white grin before she started hopping away with a haunting laugh as her departing words. All she did was turn the corner and Jim Sterling lost her.
"Ahh!" Jim growled as he started shooting off bullets ferociously in hopes of hitting his target as quickly as possible.
"Jim!" Nate grabbed the firing gun and tore it away from his partner in complete bewilderment of what he was doing, "Are you trying to kill somebody?"
"She got away!" Jim growled out as he tried to grab his gun back, "I told her to freeze or I would shoot and she laughed and kept running!"
"Looks like Sophie Devereaux strikes again," Nate agreed with a worried huff as he stared at his friend in concern, "but you're not a shoot first kind of guy!"
"She was laughing at me!" Jim howled at his friend in a complete rage now, "I couldn't help it!"
"I know the feeling," Nate nodded at his friend's unusual behavior, "Come on! Let's call Ian!"
"He's going to be furious!" Sterling huffed at the missed opportunity, "She's now officially gotten away with three paintings with us hunting her!"
"Yeah," Nate smiled evilly at the news, "Yes, she has!"
"Oh," Sterling grinned at the smirk appearing on his friend's face, "I love it when you do that!"
"Yep," Nate agreed as he started to grin wider, "We're stealing our painting back!"
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Sophie Devereaux was skipping down the hall in triumph of her newest victory. She had just stepped out for a few delicious drinks and enjoyed the buzz of the con that still filled her. She happily slid the keycard into her hotel room door and zipped right on it. She smiled towards the door in anticipation of this newest step to her game.
"Where are the others?" A calm voice demanded from the dark.
"Nathan Ford," Sophie smiled with a quick switch of the lights to prove her theory true, "We meet again and in my hotel room too."
"Are you flirting with me?" The investigator questioned the grifter before him with a rising brow.
"Is that a rhetorical question?" The woman demanded back with a smile daring to form upon her lips.
"I'll take that as a yes," Nathan Ford nodded at the game they were playing, "Where are the other paintings, Ms. Devereaux?"
"How long have you been waiting to ask?" Sophie Devereaux titled her head in amusement of the lack of interest in the man's blue eyes.
"Are you really going to answer every question with a question?" Ford asked of the woman before him with more amusement than frustration.
"What kind of thief would I be if I just answered all of your questions?" Devereaux smiled merrily at the banter that was forming.
"I see," Nate nodded at his opponent's quick thinking, "I guess we're going to have to do this the hard way then?"
"Does it involve tying me to the bedpost?" Sophie countered with a flash of satisfaction at the momentary blush forming on the man's face, "Because I'm pretty certain your wife might have something to say to that."
"Interesting," Nate commented as he tried to cover up his surprise as quickly as possible, "Why do you think I'm married?"
"Simplistic deduction," Sophie remarked with a white grin at the challenge, "You observe whatever room you're in without really observing the pretty women within it. You constantly plunge towards a payphone whenever it's noon in the States. You also order food with a careful mind on cost which would normally mean frugal but you also order with a look of hesitation whenever the food involves something of fattening quality."
"That doesn't exactly mean I'm married," Nate grinned in challenge towards the grifter's smart read.
"You are also currently fighting very hard not to look at anything below my face," Ms. Devereaux pointed out with a simple smile at the challenge as well. "Men only react that way towards me when they are married, happily so."
"Intriguing," Nate divulged with a quick sip of scotch. It was some of the expensively good quality. There were quite a few perks when drinking on the job. After all, the scotch was only going to be added to the grifter's bill, if he let her go. "Where are the other paintings, Ms. Devereaux?"
"One track mind?" Sophie posed back with a flirty smirk playing at her lips. "You must be very eager to get this done and over with."
"You're searching," Nate acknowledged back with a flourish of his eyebrows. He knew what kind of game his ghost was playing. This was going to be fun.
"As are you," Sophie nodded back with a gentle lift of her perfectly shaped left eyebrow. "You won't find what you're looking for."
"Oh, I doubt that," Nate smirked at the banter that was forming. "I'm pretty certain you're going to tell me by the end of this discussion."
"How can you be so sure?" Sophie posed back right on cue. She was just as interested in this little game they were developing as he was.
"Oh, I have my reasons," Nate tucked his tie into his suit jacket, stood to his feet, straightened his suit out, and began walking around the hotel room just for the fun of it. "Nice room. Tell me, why did you decide to room here? This doesn't seem like your type of place."
"How so?" Sophie questioned with a bob of her head as she followed him around the room with her eyes.
"Middle class hotel in the heart of the city only a few blocks away from the very museum in which you committed your crime," Nate shrugged his shoulders for a dramatic effect he knew the grifter would appreciate. "You're playing with fire, Ms. Devereaux."
"Let's just say that I enjoy the burn," Sophie smirked at the insurance man's techniques. "You're not too bad at reading people I can see."
"I dabble," Nate replied as he squared off against the grifter for the final blow. "Now, where are the paintings?"
"We've been through this already," Sophie shook her head at the simple game. "You refuse to give any ground and I refuse to give any ground. We'll call this an impasse if you will."
"Tell me where the paintings are," Nate commanded playfully.
"A bit demanding now, aren't we?" Sophie clicked her tongue in annoyance of the quick change in the air of professionalism.
"You're going to tell me where those painting are, Ms. Devereaux," Nate stated sharply. He could feel his patience was finally about to pay off.
"You still haven't explained how that's going to happen," Sophie snapped back with danger suddenly glinting in her eyes. She noticed the insurance man gulp a little bit at the hint of excitement as well. He was going to be fun putty in her hands.
"Tell me where the paintings are," Nate suggested as he clambered his way right on up into her personal space, "Or I will put you in jail."
"Do you really think that frightens me?" Sophie tilted her head in boredom of the cliché pouring from the insurance man's lips. She was hoping he would be a bit more sporting.
"I hear the French prisons aren't exactly cozy," Nate sighed back patiently waiting for the kill.
"Getting better but I don't think you're going to beat me so easily," Sophie stepped a bit closer to him in challenge. The air itself grew hot with the thrill of the game the two enemies were concocting within it. "Try again, Mr. Ford."
"All three paintings for your freedom, Ms. Devereaux," Nate posed back without even a flinch at the fire he could see in her eyes. "Take it or leave it."
"Does your wife know that you get a thrill from intimidating women in such a manner?" Sophie asked back with ice sizzling in her tone.
"Give me the paintings!" Nate ordered sharply after he accidentally stepped back out of shock of the bold statement. He had just lost that battle and he needed to gain the upper ground again before he lost the war.
"Temper, temper," Sophie wiggled her finger in tandem with her head as she gracefully slid into his personal space with a gloat. "You should really work on that."
"Keep trying my patience and it won't be jail or prison I'll be sending you to," Nathan threatened quite viciously. "You don't want that. Trust me."
"Ooh," Sophie encouraged just for sport at the perfect mastery she was maintaining in the current situation. "Does it involve torturing me until I reveal the truth because your wife surely wouldn't approve of that, would she?"
"I'll throw you outside and reveal what you truly are to the public," Nate sneered at the little plug with faith that he had the upper hand now. "I can only imagine how many of your victims would have enough money to supply a proper punishment for your crimes. How do you feel about wooden boxes or would you rather be cremated? That's if there's anything left of course."
"Nice move," Sophie bowed down to the step she just did not see coming her way. "I'll have to remember that some time."
"By all means," Nate smiled at his current victory. He knew this wouldn't be the last time he faced Sophie Devereaux. He just hoped he'd be ready for the stakes. "Now, the location of the paintings, please."
"Well since you said please," Sophie replied with just the right amount of scorn in her voice. She quickly jotted down an address and handed it to the man. "Here. I hope you're happy. I had plans for those and I will not be forgetting this meeting any time soon."
"Glad we had this chat," Nate grinned cattily as he opened her closet door and removed the painting he was hired to retrieve. "I hope this is the right address, for your sake."
"Ta-ta," Sophie waved back sarcastically with a pout firmly on her lips.
"By the way," Nate stated right before he was out the door with her newly acquired painting, "Next time, make it a challenge. The broken key you left in my wallet with the number was way too easy. Until next time, Ms. Devereaux."
The grifter just pouted at the door in complete disbelief. He was going to pay for that. She was most certain of it.
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It had barely been an hour since Nathan Ford challenged Sophie Devereaux and demanded the information from her. He sent Jim to the address the grifter gave him while he went to her hotel. The local police were kind enough to help him barge into her room. The room looked pretty much as it had been left with only one small exception. The grifter was gone and so was her small bag of luggage.
"Damn!" Nate cursed when every single police officer reported that she was indeed gone. The grifter was good, he would give her that. She could read him clearly enough to know when to pack up and leave. The bonus? She ended up footing him for the bill.
"She's a slippery little devil," Jim acknowledged on the drive to the airport, "but we got the paintings we were after. At least we won't have Ian down our backs anymore!"
"Necks," Nate cringed at the statement. "It's breathing down our necks."
"Right," Jim nodded at the correction with a devilish grin, "Necks."
"I'll get her," Nate sighed in disappointment. "I'll get her."
The insurance man and his friend boarded their plane without incident and returned home the same. They returned as heroes for their valiant recovery of the three missing pieces. Jim Sterling and Nathan Ford were high on their win. Well, Jim Sterling was privately brooding over the fact that he had only been of assistance instead of actually the head. Nathan Ford was privately brooding over the fact that Sophie Devereaux got away. The game continued.
A/N II: Yeah! That one is finally done! In the next one we get to meet Sam officially!Her